


Not What I Signed Up For

by ranereins (shadowintime)



Category: The Last Ship (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowintime/pseuds/ranereins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giving executive orders was not what Tom signed up for. He’d honestly never expected to face any sort of situation like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not What I Signed Up For

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the weekly writing challenge at [Game of Cards](http://gameofcards.livejournal.com). The prompt was _"the first time"_ and/or _"the last time"_.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Feel free to point out any you spot.

The first time Tom heard about the pandemic decimating the world’s population, he’d been in an utter rage. This nose-in-the-air Doctor that had invaded his ship, took up precious space with her _bird lab_ , and started demanding things of him and his crew on day two of _their_ mission had now nearly gotten his men killed over some stupid vials of ice. And for what? The health of some birds no one cared about?!

He was sick and tired of having to deal with her attitude of superiority, her frankly ridiculous work, and just her and her strange lab assistant in general. So he’d yelled and slammed her stupid samples down on a crate and then yelled some more. Then it was her turn to yell and the words that spilled from her mouth floored him. She told him about a new, seemingly unstoppable virus and how bad things had gotten since they’d gone under Emcon Alpha One four months ago.

“We are now at phase six; global pandemic. Eighty percent of the world’s population is infected. The world is sick, Captain Chandler. Very sick.”

 

The last time he’d heard from the defacto president, she’d essentially told him that they were running out of leaders to give orders and hold the United States of America together. It’d only taken five days for them to lose contact completely and he had to assume that what had been left of the government had fallen. The moment Tom realized that it was more than likely that there were no more orders coming, his stomach sank like a brick. He’d been taking orders and passing them on since he’d been promoted to Captain of the USS Nathan James and he’d gotten quite used to it over the years. Sure, he gave his own orders for running and maintaining the ship day to day, but mission orders always came from someone higher up. It was… easy. The prospect of having to give his own orders on such an important mission, a mission to save the world, was daunting to say the least.

As the captain, Tom considered himself a leader; he was the leader of a crew of two hundred seventeen men and women. _‘Two hundred sixteen men and women now that Lt. Benz was gone,’_ he reminded himself. Giving executive orders was not what he signed up for. He didn’t think he could bare the sole burden of the lives of so many… it was just too much. He’d honestly never expected to face any sort of situation like this.

Tom thought back to when he’d been given his own ship, how he’d told his wife that he had one of the safest positions in the military and not to worry. No one attacked naval destroyers any more, not for a long time now, because they were simply outgunned. He was in the business of providing support… at least he had been. And in the past few days the Nathan James had not only been attacked, by the Russians no less, but his and his crew’s lives seemed in constant danger now. It was all just too much.

So when it was time to start making the really tough calls, he surprised himself by calling them out like it was second nature. Mike questioned him, questioned his decision not to proceed to the lab they’d been directed too by the defacto president, and he was once again surprised to find himself pushing back with a good measure of certainty.

“In the absence of a command structure, _I decide_ what is in the best interest of our mission,” he said resolutely.

“And we have enough food here to last us what… a week?” Mike asked skeptically. “How much fuel?”

Tom felt his back straighten as he stood his ground. “We’ll find what we need.”

“We’ll die out there!” Tom could see the fear in Mike’s eyes, fear of the uncertainty, the same fear he himself had had no more than a couple of hours before. The man had lost his boy, was losing hope fast as well, and he imagined that Mike was feeling like trying survive on some god-forsaken boat while the rest of his family was out there dying was much worse than dying from this hell-borne virus trying to get to them.

“No, _we will not_.”

He’d never felt so sure of anything in his entire life. A sense of honor-bound duty, of Navy pride, and of hope for the human race swelled within him. If there was a snowballs chance in hell that they could help save what was left of the world, by-god, that’s exactly what they were gonna do.

“I’m not lettin’ _anybody_ on this ship give up.”

Mike narrowed his eyes at his superior officer, knowing that those words were directed more at him than anyone. “That’s not your call. You don’t get to play God!”

Tom tipped his chin up, shoulders squaring, and anger rising. “I’m still the Captain of this ship! Now, I’ve laid out our mission… I expect you to fall in line.”

As he walked away, he couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Mike was hurting; he had every reason to want to give up, to try to get to his family before they… _in case_ they got sick, to hug them tight at least one last time. Hell, he wanted to go hug his wife and kids so bad it physicially pained him, but this was bigger than them now. They could be, and likely were the world’s last hope. They couldn’t think about individual needs or desires; they had to think about what was best for the whole of humanity, what furthered their mission to develop a cure.

Tom made his way to the bridge and stood, looking out over the open water and at the American flag flying high on the bow of his ship. He held his head high as he gave the orders to turn the ship away from the east coast. It wouldn’t be easy on his crew, but this is what had to be done.


End file.
